The Mystery of the Purple Pirate

144 Pages·1982·3.69 MB·English

by  Arden William

THE MYSTERY
OF
THE PURPLE PIRATE
WilliamArden

A Challenge from Hector Sebastian HELLO, MYSTERY LOVERS!
Once again it’s my pleasure to introduce an action-packed case of the Three
Investigators. First let me introduce the young super-sleuths. There’s Jupiter
Jones, First Investigator, a chunky boy fond of a good meal and a good puzzle.
His razor-sharp memory and brilliant powers of deduction have got the team out
of a number of tight corners. Then there’s the tall and athletic Second
Investigator, Peter Crenshaw, nervous in the face of danger but bold in meeting it
head on. The last but not least is Bob Andrews, in charge of Records and
Research—a reliable and quiet young man, indispensable to his fellow
Investigators.
This time the junior detectives take on a mind-teasing case at the Purple
Pirate Lair and aboard the pirate ship Black Vulture. Certain strange events lead
them to believe one pirate is still very much alive at the former heaven of
California’s notorious privateers.
The mysterious adventure tests the boys’ insight and repeatedly gets them
into tight corners. Match wits with the Three Investigators and see if you can
beat them to the solution of The Mystery of the Purple Pirate.
HECTOR SEBASTIAN
Chapter 1
Buccaneers, Brigands, and Bandits!
WHEN HIS ALARM CLOCK rang violently, Pete Crenshaw opened one
eye and groaned. Only the second week of summer vacation and already he
wished bitterly that he’d never agreed to do yard work for his next-door
neighbours while they were away on a trip. But the funds of the junior detective
agency to which he belonged were at an all-time low after an end-of-school trip
to Disneyland, and the team needed summer money. The other two sleuths had
also been put to work: Bob Andrews had a part-time job at the library, and
Jupiter Jones had reluctantly agreed to work extra hours at The Jones Salvage
Yard, where he lived with his aunt and uncle.
With a final groan, Pete crawled out of bed and hurried into his clothes.
When he dragged himself into the kitchen, he saw that his father was already
having breakfast.
“Too early for you, Pete?” Mr. Crenshaw said, grinning.
“Got to do that dumb yard work,” Pete grumbled as he got his orange juice
from the refrigerator.
“Summer money, eh? Well, maybe there’s an easier way. This was left in
our mailbox last night.”
Mr. Crenshaw put a yellow sheet of paper at Pete’s place as the boy sat
down.
Pete glanced at the paper while he drank his juice. It was one of those
advertising flyers that local businesses pay to have delivered house to house. As
Pete read his excitement grew: BUCCANEERS! BRIGANDS!
Lovers of adventure! Historians!
Bookworms! Descendants of pirates!
The Society for Justice to Buccaneers, Brigands, Bandits, and
Bushwhackers will pay $25 an hour to anyone who can report detailed
information about local pirates, bandits, highwaymen, and other colourful
miscreants of California’s lusty past.
Come to 1995, De La Vina Street any day of the week, June 18-22, from 9
to 5.
BANDITS! BUSHWHACKERS!
“Wow!” Pete yelled. “We can make a fortune, Dad! I mean, we know a lot
about old-time crooks around here, especially Jupiter! I’ve got to show this to
Jupe and Bob right away. Today’s the eighteenth, and it’s almost eight already!”
“Whoa,” Mr. Crenshaw said. “Before you become a millionaire, finish your
breakfast.”
“Dad! I have to water the lawn, then—”
“You boys always think better on a full stomach, especially Jupiter. Force
something down.”
Pete groaned. “Just some cereal then!”
He ate the cereal quickly, then sniffed the
plate of hotcakes and bacon his father set
down in front of him.
“Well, “Pete said, “maybe just one
plate.”
While his Dad grinned but said nothing,
Pete finished the hotcakes and bacon, had
another plateful, and then picked up the
advertising flyer and ran out. He hurried next
door, watered the lawn, impatiently raked the
fallen leaves and branches, then jumped on to his bike. He pedalled hard,
and it was just nine o’clock when he rode up to the long, colourful fence of The
Jones Salvage Yard.
The fence had been decorated by local artists. Near one corner it showed a
ship foundering in a green ocean as a painted fish looked on. Pete pressed the
fish’s eye and the board swung open-this was Green Gate One.
Pete slipped through and stood in Jupiter’s outdoor workshop, located close
to the boys’ hidden headquarters in an old mobile home trailer. The trailer was
the centre of operations of The Three Investigators detective agency. Pete was
the Second Investigator of the team. Leaving his bike by two others in the
workshop, Pete crawled in to the mouth of a long corrugated pipe that was too
narrow for an adult to enter.
The pipe, named Tunnel Two, led under a great mound of junk that totally
surrounded the house trailer. By now everyone else had forgotten that the trailer
was even in the salvage yard. At the end of the dark pipe, Pete pushed up a
trapdoor and emerged into the small trailer room, which was filled with furniture
and all the equipment the boys used in their detective work.
“Guys look at this!”
Pete waved the yellow flyer. Then he stopped and stared. Jupiter Jones, the
chubby and very brainy First Investigator of the team, was standing near the
desk.
Bob Andrews, the small, blond, and studious Records and Research man,
was leaning against a filing cabinet. Both of them held the same yellow flyer!
Bob sighed. “I got here five minutes ago, Second, with the same big news!”
“Which I already had,” Jupiter said. “It appears, fellows, we all had the
same idea for making money!”
Pete climbed all the way inside the hidden room and dropped into an
overstuffed armchair they had retrieved from the salvage yard.
“I guess we’re all tired of work already,” Pete decided.
“Work never hurt anyone,” Jupiter reproved the Second Investigator and
then slumped into the desk chair. “But I must admit that spending day after day
in the salvage yard is cruel and inhuman. Perhaps the Society for Justice to
Buccaneers, Brigands, Bandits, and Bushwhackers will come to our rescue.”
“Anything for a little extra money,” Bob said.
“Who should we tell them about?” Pete asked.
“Well, of course there’s the French privateer de Bouchard,” said Jupe. “He’s
the most famous pirate in California history.”
Pete said, “There’s El Diablo, the bandit we learned about in the Moaning
Cave case.”
“And those soldiers who killed Don Sebastian Alvaro to get the Cortés
Sword in the Headless Horse case,” Bob added.
“Oh, and that follower of de Bouchard’s — William Evans, the Purple
Pirate,”
Jupiter continued. He glanced at the old grandfather clock they had rebuilt.
“But we aren’t the only ones who know those stories, so I suggest we move
swiftly.”
Suiting action to words, the trio dropped through the trapdoor and crawled
through Tunnel Two to the workshop. As they emerged they heard, “Jupiter!
Where have you gotten to? Jupiter!”
“It’s your Aunt Mathilda, Jupe!” said Bob.
The caller could not be seen over the piles of junk that surrounded the
workshop, but her voice came closer and closer.
“I’ll bet she’s got work for us to do!” exclaimed Pete.
Jupiter turned pale. “Hurry!”
The boys grabbed their bikes, slipped through Green Gate One, and rode off
towards downtown Rocky Beach. As they neared the address on De La Vina
Street, Bob realized he knew it.
“It’s an old Spanish-style courtyard surrounded by a stucco wall, with shops
at the far end of the court. Most of them are empty.”
Jupiter puffed heavily as he pedalled. “That’s probably why the society
picked it.
Records. They undoubtedly rented it cheaply, and it will be a quiet place for
interviews.”
As the boys turned into the 1900 block of De La Vina, they saw a small
crowd, growing larger by the minute, gathered in front of closed wooden gates in
the high wall of number 1995. Jupiter studied the crowd as they rode up.
“A few adults, but mostly teenagers and kids,” the stout leader of the team
observed. “Because it’s a workday, the adults won’t come until later. An
advantage for us, fellows.”
As they locked their bikes to a convenient iron railing, the boys saw the
high wooden gates open and a dapper little man with white hair and a big, bushy
moustache come out. He wore a tweed jacket, riding breeches, boots, and a silk
scarf at his throat, and he carried a riding crop. He looked like some old-time
cavalryman.
The man faced the crowd and raised his riding crop for silence.
“My name is Major Karnes! I want to welcome all of you to the Society for
Justice to Buccaneers, Brigands, Bandits, and Bushwhackers. We will interview
all of you, but there are too many of you today, so we will have to limit our
interviews to those who came the farthest! Only those who live beyond the city
limits of Rocky Beach will be interviewed now; the rest can go home. Do come
back another day.”
A cry of disappointment went up from the crowd. The teenagers began to
push and shove. Backing away, Major Karnes bumped into the high wooden
doors, closing them behind him! Backed against the gates, he tried to speak, but
the teenagers drowned him out.
“Hey, what’s goin’ on?”
“You mean we came all this way for nothin’?”
“You’ve got a lot of nerve!”
Major Karnes swung his riding crop at the rowdy teenagers. “Get away
from me, you young punks!”
The crowd turned ugly. A teenager grabbed the small man’s riding crop and
threw it away. The others surged towards him. Major Karnes went pale.
“Help! Hubert!”
The angry crowd pressed closer!
Chapter 2
Cheated!
“HELP!” MAJOR KARNES cried as the furious teenagers closed in on
him. “Hubert!
Help!”
Pete turned quickly to Jupiter. “Hey, this is getting out of hand. Get the
major inside.” With that, the tall, muscular Second Investigator leaped on top of
a nearby parked car and pointed up the street.
“Police!” he shouted. “The police are coming!” The teenagers turned from
the gates and looked up at Pete in alarm. Bob and Jupiter quickly slipped
through the crowd and reached the major.
“Come on!” Pete yelled. “Let’s get out of here!” He jumped down from the
car and ran towards the far end of the street. Some of the teenagers began to run
after him at once, while others hesitated. Behind them, Bob pulled the heavy
wooden gates open a crack.
“This way, sir,” said
Jupiter and pushed the major
inside. A few moments later
Pete appeared from among
the dispersing teenagers and
slipped into the courtyard
after Major Karnes, Jupiter,
and Bob,
Together the boys pulled
the heavy gates shut again as
Major Karnes leaned panting
against the inner wall.
“Hubert!”